


Lost and Found

by bljohnlock



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Collars, F/M, Jotunn | Frost Giant, M/M, Post-Bifrost, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bljohnlock/pseuds/bljohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The walls were grey, and the floor and his… his skin? The murkiness in his sight faded and he could see the jagged spikes on his skin, the disgusting creases in his skin. His hand flew up to his head and he touched the horns protruding like a dead tree in a desert. He was in his jotun form. </p>
<p>What happened when Loki fell off the rainbow bridge</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Loki is being abused as a slave, Thor comes to save the day</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

He could hear before anything, the distant wailing, the muffled cries and the sound of footsteps, gradually increasing in volume. He then felt, the damp rough material below his skin, the suffocating damp air. A loud WHIP sound startled him awake, as he sat up in a rush. He opened his eyes and immediately swooned, the blood rushing to his head. The walls were grey, and the floor and his… his skin? The murkiness in his sight faded and he could see the jagged spikes on his skin, the disgusting creases in his skin. His hand flew up to his head and he touched the horns protruding like a dead tree in a desert. He was in his jotun form. And it made sense, his jotun form could not see color. There was no need, after all, in a land of white ice and white snow and white skies. The proud asgardian prince of Asgard, Loki, was a jotun runt. He was everything he had heard of in his childhood, in all the scary books and the nightmarish plays, a monster. 

He took deep breaths, choking midway from the heated air and pulled at his magic. The magic that came so easily, that had been his only refuge, a safe place to hide (and use to hide) from all his troubles, the magic that did not come. He pulled and breathed and pulled and the marks on his skin did not fade, the spikes did not retract, he could not transform. He looks up and sees, and sees the bars on one face of the wall, and across the hallway just outside, a man, an asgardian one, sleeping on a cotton sack sheet. He knew this place. He had been here before, in the mist of his childhood, when he had wandered too far from home. He was in a slave-trading center in Svartalfheim. The memories of happy days when Loki BELONGED swarm his head and he rubs at his face when he feels cool metal under his chin. He knows it was there, his subconscious knew when he awoke, when he saw it on the asgardian, when he couldn’t call his magic. His trembling hand touches cool metal, and the too-familiar engraving on the retched collar. And he knows. His magic is lost to him now, and he looks around once more, his freedom is too. He is grateful, almost, when gravity takes over and his senses fail. 

Loki wakes again, with a strong feeling of deja vu, in a similar state as before, with one primary difference, the dissonant clanging of a metal against metal. Regaining composure much faster this time, he sits up, looking at the bars. Right outside, a tall female dark elf stands outside glaring down at him. 

“How are you doing prince of Asgard?” she spews sarcastically. He stands up and growls. A sharp pain suddenly stabs him, all his nerves singing. He crashes to the floor and lets out a cry of agony. The woman laughs, high like bells, and it horrifies Loki that such a beautiful sound could come from one so evil. 

“You see, this little baby,” she says, holding up a small device the size of her palm, helps enforce this little place. Your collar is connected to your central nervous system, and cannot be removed. It administers pain at my command at whomever I so wish who carries a collar. Now, lets see if you can obey commands. Stand up!”

Loki merely glares, refusing to move, and is simply meet by another paralyzing burst of pain. Her shout of “Stand!” repeats again, and he does nothing but stare. After 3 more rounds, the futility of his situation finally sinks in and he stands on wobbly legs. Her mouth curls softly, but her eyes scream victory. 

She opens a portal, so that the metal wraps, and she steps in. Loki pushes her away in his attempt to escape, or tries, at least. He is stopped by an ocean of electric pain, and even as it stops, all his cells throb in phantom pain. The women giggles, setting her hand on her leather-like uniformed hips. 

“Any attempt of harm, to yourself, to others, any attempt of escape, anything that lowers your value or is detrimental to your owner in anyway? The collar will know, and will punish you accordingly. So unless you absolutely love electricity, I recommend you get along with it, pet.”

“I am no pet of yours!” Loki yells, then flinches, waiting for the pain. It does not come. He looks up at her smirk, and then is hit with that furious blow of electricity. 

She tosses her stick, the one that she had hit the bars with; in to the air, and on the down stroke, she catches the stick and slams it into Loki’s ribs. A loud SNAP echoes and he belatedly wraps his arms around his ribs. The simple cloth on him, the only support from his shoulder, provides no cushioning. She raises the stick high and slams it down on his cheek, making him fly into the adjacent wall. 

“Why do you do this? Let go of me at once!” Loki shrieks through his teeth. But the relentless blows continue, some with the stick, some with her metal-tipped boots, and other with sparks of electricity. When she does stop, and it feels like an eternity before she does, Loki is a living bruise, bones cracked, skin black and red. He spills no tears, after all this body cannot produce any, but he knows that were he in his asgardian form, he would be drowning in his tears. He huddles up on his side, arms around his legs and his head tucked in between. He hears the soft swish of the portal opening, and then closing again.


End file.
